Forget Me Not
by The REAL FanFic Contributor
Summary: *The Historical accuracy is not accurate for the most part, but the outcome is true...* This story was revealed to the public fans on September 19th, 2013- "I'm Davie!" America was surprised to see an actual person within range of this land. He had never seen anyone around for the times he's traveled the field... This is the written story of "Davie" by Himaruya.


_The sudden, wordless mini comic that was released by Hima-san on his blog -updating it after a while- that took the Hetalian fans by surprise. The story reflecting on the relationships of countries and humans and how things are sometimes not perfect and happy in the world of Hetalia. A quick story about a young lad named Davie and his encountering with New World America. The bond starts and ends as quickly as America perceived time to be and the reminder of the solemn life of countries. I am fleshing out the story just a smidge bit with more detail and words (since Sensei didn't add words to the strip.) and adding a little something in the end that I've already, astonishingly seen. Yes, it is like writing down his genius, but longer and repeating, but I wanted to bring more words and feeling into the story (and I wanted to pair it for myself...) _**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful world of Hetalia or the quick strip of Davie and ChibiAmerica and Himaruya's inexplicable and incredible way of grabbing my attention ultimately and ripping souls of others.**

* * *

Forget Me Not

A pasture of green leaves off in the empty land, nothing have or ever will living there, wind carried it only gently, rippling through the fresh green and the soul of the land. The child sighed a croon of thanks, refreshed, and opened his eyes towards the ruffled furred bunny twitching his nose up at him. Nature was his best friend ever since he could remember. It was always around him and it always provided with company of animals and land to sought. It was vast, and bright in imagination, and it was alive. It was all he had. The young figure sighed again. There were Native Americans around who watched over him from time to time, perhaps chat (it was so long ago to remember accurately.) and linger around, but they have been driven out long ago. Being so young, it didn't feel long until the certain figure was visited by another strange country with a funny accent, who later brought in two other countries. One of them had visited the young land and a sudden bond was constructed, he taking care of him for only so long now. Big Brother England was a good man, visiting the land as much as he could and bringing delicious food and company each time; But he could never stay for long. He always had to sail back to his home and deal with financial things. For most of the part, really, he was left alone, like it has always been. America felt the pulse of the Earth wave through him like a heartbeat and casted his eyes and hand to the bunny nudging up to him. He pet its plush fur and thought of some of the things England might be doing back at home.

"Hey!"

America's eyes widened in surprise and he pivoted his body around for the sound. His eyes fell upon a young lad, not much older than a teenager, but physically older than the nation, up on the hill top smiling down on him. America tilted his head to the side a bit, wondering if he was real.

The boy waved a bit, then enthusiastically gestured to himself, "I'm Davie!"

America straightened up a bit. He **was** a real person. He looked around almost in a panicked fashion. He doesn't remember ever seeing anyone around.

This Davie, upon noticing the boy's stoned-faced quietness, brought it upon himself to smile and trot down the grassy hillside, stumbling a bit and awkwardly sliding down. America got to his feet unexpectedly, the bunny attempting to naturally hop away but landing in the young nation's arms. Davie picked back up on his feet and jogged over to the small child. He was a little out of breath, hunched over and the brim of his features were beaded with sweat. He breathed through his toothy smile and extended out his hand, "what's your name?"

America was at a loss for words, recovering from seeing a person other than adults and who looked to live around there. He began to sweat a bit under the weariness and lowered his gaze, the bunny snuggling closer to his body.

Davie laughed kindly at the child's timidness, "hm, kind of shy, aren't ya'. That's alright," America gazed up at him a bit. There was something about him that immediately brought security. "So, what are you doing here all by yourself?"

America was a bit nervous to answer, but stuttered in a low whisper, "I live here."

"Really, I live around here too!"

America couldn't believe it. He had traveled around the patch of land countless times and he never recalled a house around. Yet, he was still fascinated by this young man and nodded along.

"You know, you chose a really pretty spot to live in. Not many flowers, though..." His smile reached America as he petted the crown of the child's head gingerly. America closed his eyes. He had a certain warmth to his touch, like when England's around and pats his head with affection. It was safe, and sound.

Davie's thoughts seemed to wander off and he suddenly smiled again at America and said, "hey, you want to come to my house! I want to show you something."

America looked up at the kid and finally nodded assuredly.

The two treaded back up the grassy hill and America followed curiously behind Davie to a cottage down a sand path, all surrounded by calm hills of nature. America's certainly never come across it before. He was rapt in the scenery.

As they neared it, Davie pointed up at it and grinned, "see, that's my house." America grinned at the infectious atmosphere and Davie led young America in the house. The host quickly dashed in the home to another room energetically and beckoned the child over. America strode through the house slowly, taking the time to admire his home. It was small, much more small compared to his and England's home, but it was incredibly comfy and warm and decorated with patches of nature. Although a lot of them looked odd, none that he's ever seen. He smiled at the frame of the home lastly, then hurried over to Davie, who was digging through a treasure chest eagerly.

"Take a look at this!" Davie exclaimed, having thrusted out a leather, weathering book and glowing ardently. America grinned in matched fascination and practically hopped over while Davie flipped through the pages. "This book is full of flowers and information, like their names," he explained, showing a few pages carefully of beautifully depicted flowers and fluid information on them to the side. America was practically glowing himself. He has never seen something so lovely before and wished to reach out and grab them from the pages. Davie grinned from ear to ear at his child-like happiness and finally flipped to a certain page. A blue flower with thin petals and a lanky stature was painted on the page and there was little information beside it.

Davie pointed cheerily at the flower. "This is a 'Forget-me-not'! They're very beautiful, don't you think?"

"Yeah," America agreed, unable to take his eyes off the intricate color shading.

"I'm infatuated with nature, you see, and one thing I really love is flowers of all kinds, ranging from color to aroma, from beauty to meaning," America was captivated with every word he said. He was so wise with nature and he was so friendly in character. He was astounding. Davie pointed back at the picture, "you see, this is one of the reasons I like this flower. Not only is it beautiful for its simplicity, but its set meaning is kind of bittersweet- 'forget me not', just perfect for when you want to give someone flowers you hope they will always remember you with..."

America looked back up at Davie, he for once frowning a bit sadly, "but as you can see, I haven't written a lot on this page. They're kind of rare. It sure would be nice to have one personally, huh?"

The very young nation listened and processed this carefully, then stared back down at the page, his eyes gleaming at the picture. How nice that would be... "It's so cool," he said aloud, then smiled happily at a thought and turned to him, "thanks for showing me this, Davie!"

"No problem! I'm privileged to have shown you," He smiled almost crookedly and America suddenly shuffled to the door. Davie followed close behind and America let himself out. It was already dark, but America paid no attention to that and continued out the house. Davie exited out and rested his arms on the porch. He watched the little kid eagerly tread the bountiful land, then suddenly spin around on the spot.

"I'll come back soon with flowers, Davie! Goodbye, thank you!" He smiled widely and waved off into the darkness for another place to sleep for the night. It was always usually lonely sleeping outside, but after seeing Davie wave back sweetly, he suddenly felt warm for a nice rest in search of flowers the next day.

* * *

America woke up extra early the next day and made a quick route to the shed near his home. He dragged out from a wooden box some of England's spare clothes (although, neatly on a hanger.) and threw them on with ease (he rolled up the sleeves and pant legs for good measure and respect, though). He returned back to the pasture and went to immediate work scavenging for the blue flower. He dug here and there through the peaceful grass in search of the Forget-me-not. In fact, he was now trying to find any flowers in general. The land was truly blessed with fresh fields, but granted no flowers (except for maybe some exception of small pink and purple buds.) for appreciating and giving to his new found friend. America, covered in light patches of dirt and his knees aching from digging, finally stopped his search. He felt frustrated and tired for no find and eventually picked himself up and headed up the hill to Davie's home. He was a little discouraged to the point of already remembering where Davie lived, but not noticing the remarkable change of his small cottage.

America allowed himself in and saw man who looked a lot like Davie entering the living room, chatting along side another man. America became instantaneously cheery and moved forward to him, "Davie! Davie! !"

The two men stared at him in surprise. A random boy who magically came in the house and some how knew his name. Davie stared at him especially confused, but almost like there was a remembrance that should maybe be there. The other men then narrowed his eyes in his direction and smirked playfully, "you know this kid, Davie?"

Davie instantly turned his head away, sweating awkwardly, "no, I've never seen him before."

America's mouth opened a bit in confusion as Davie turned back a bit at him. That wonderful, warm smile wasn't even gracing his face. Davie and the other man quickly huddled back into the other room and America was immediately shocked. He didn't understand and fidgeted in a panic. _Why didn't Davie smile at me or even acknowledge me? He looked almost angry to see me! Is he upset I didn't bring him the flowers! ?_ America started to get teary eyed and anxiety filled as he needed to find a Forget-me-not. He needed some help.

* * *

England was kneeled down to a wooden basin of water, hard at work just outside the house, washing clothes. He had finally come back to visit America again and his first task was to already wash his white shirt and trousers. _How did these get dirty in the first place? _He wondered as he worked the clothes through the bubbles and washboard quietly, always enjoying peacefully the wind dancing through the Earth.

"England..."

He turned at his name, seeing the young America approaching him kind of timidly.

"Hello America, what is it?" He responded casually.

The countries expression appeared neutral, but the atmosphere coming off of him felt a bit sad and England sat back on the grass, rolling down his sleeves more comfortably. "I want to tell you something that happened."

America noticed the full interest and somewhat look of concern on England's face and swallowed as he explained meeting his friend Davie. His tone began to get lighter and lighter at the thought of his friend, but then he explained how he rejected him and importantly upon the certain flower which he couldn't find anywhere.

"What's that, a Forget-me-not?" England asked again after America finished.

"Mh-hm," he nodded, being filled with happiness of the thought.

"Well there's your problem, America. Forget-me-nots are not common at all in America," England explained when America's faith began to crack and his eyes glistened with tears. England caught himself as he noticed this in the child and swallowed, "they are, however, indigenous to my homeland."

England looked on at the sorrowful look in America's physique and broke out in a smile and huffed, "don't worry, America! When I go back home, I'll be sure to pick a plentiful of Forget-me-nots and I'll bring them back as soon as possible to you."

America looked up at him and smiled widely, "thank you, England!" America ran over to England and quickly hugged him. England was taken aback a bit and returned the hug, happy to bring his child hope.

* * *

England had left back to Europe the very next day, and even though that usually saddens America deeply, he was full of happiness and rejoiced as he walked down the familiar sandy path to Davie's home, proud of himself for being able to deliver him his favorite flowers soon. He sang a bit to himself gleefully, once again not noticing the enlargement and development of the house and land and climbed up to the fence of the porch.

"Davie! ! Davie! ! Guess what!" He exclaimed, so joyful and spirited.

Davie on the other hand, now even more older with wrinkles and relatives beside him, didn't even get shocked to see the still small country. In fact, he looked like he didn't recognize him at all. The elder woman exchanged bewildered glances with the man who looked like Davie and the young girl next to him swished her head to him, her braids whizzing behind her, equally bemused. America couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, but it looked like they all didn't know what was going on and America's smile quickly started to fade. He breathed heavily and nervously as Davie then shifted off the rocking chair and kneeled on the floor, beckoning him to come down. America wondered what he was thinking, because the familiar feeling of warmth has now disappeared, too.

"Excuse me little boy," Davie started, unfamiliarly as America dropped down and shuffled over to him. "Is there something you need?"

America, once again at a loss for words after a few days for confusion, shook his head then started to blurt out what he came there for, "Davie, guess what, I'm getting the flowers you told me you wanted! Remember! The Forget-me-"

"I'm sorry little boy," he stopped him abruptly by the head, looking honestly baffled. America's sudden train of thought was dashed by the honest look in his eyes, "are you lost, perhaps? Do you know where your mother and father are at?"

The older lady and little girl both stared at him, now looking pitiful for him as he backed away, shaking his head slowly in utter confusion. "Wha-wha..." What was going on? Davie is acting like he doesn't even know him anymore. Was he getting something wrong? Was he even talking to Davie who he remembered wanted those precious blue flowers more than anything?

America became immediately distressed and ran off from the cold home back down the path to his own home, tears already falling from his face.

* * *

England dragged his feet through the stiff grass, breathing heavily in the thick air. Already, rain was drizzling from time to time, getting cold enough to frost over, reminding England it was getting too late. He ripped his gaze away from it and looked up at the shed. He had gone looking for America when he didn't show up by call in the house, and now knew he was hidden away in the shed. Indeed, it was evident by the light, distressed crying and sniffling echoing from inside. The descendent of the bunny from alongside America when he first met Davie hopped beside England and they stopped in front of the cold steel of the shed. England heaved a heavy sigh, feeling truly bad to hear him stifling cries inside and brushed his hand on the freezing door. He opened the large doors and light shed on the image of America turning back to see England, tears stained on his face and a bitter look crossing his features. England sighed even more dolefully and prepared a speech for sorry. "America-"

"England! What took you so long!" America had rushed up to England, pounding at his stomach fiercely, but still weak with tears.

England sighed again at the poor child's distress and let him finish a bit. He exhaled out when America took the time to breathe and started, "I have to apologize, I'm sorry for being so late America, but you know how travel to and from America goes."

America's breath rattled as he tried to relax. His mind ached from confusion and worry for so long, but he told him in a breathy voice, "I think something's wrong, England..."

England didn't seem so surprised by his thought. By the time he was traveling back, on top with America's story he already told thus far, he knew time was passing by for America's human friend. He didn't want to say anything, though, believing himself that his friend would except it all the same if he truly cared about him.

"America, here," he looked up and his eyes widened when England brought out the bouquet of blue and some darker shades of purple Forget-me-nots. "I promised I'd get them for you, now please do be careful in delivering them to him."

England kneeled down and handed America the flowers gingerly, being filled with some ounce of happiness to see the boy's face brighten up. America's eyes filled with tears again, but of overwhelmed happiness. "Thank you England!" He exclaimed gratefully, once again giving him a hug and a kiss to the forehead before heading immediately off to see Davie's long awaited wish come true.

As he heard the oblivious New World's footsteps echo away, England's body felt limp at the looming thought. It's always possible, but the poor kid doesn't realize the time difference that's gone on. There's still always hope, however... England shuffled back to the house to get some warmth from this devastating temperature and prepared for the next full day when America would come back.

* * *

America hurried through the fields, beautiful blue bouquet at hand tightly and Davie's old house in deep mind. He ran as fast as he could. Ran, so concentrated and focused on his friend's reaction that he didn't even see the moon disappear from the sky and the sun already setting in, or the coldness of the overnight winter suddenly melt away and the grass turn thin and fresh again. He ran over and up new hills and finally saw a young boy alone in the pasture, standing near what faintly looked like a wooden box. When the boy turned to look at the oncoming country, America was suddenly overwhelmed with happiness to finally recognize his friend's face.

"Davie!" He ran up to him, overcome by tears, by happiness, by bliss to finally achieve his friend's dream. He ran up to the boy and presented the bevy of blue flowers proudly and happily. "I did it!"

The boy stared down at the flowers, uncomfortable reality setting in once again. He also stared at the smiling boy's face, who obviously didn't realize what was going on, and he sadly took ahold of the flowers, carefully carrying it over to the crate and tossing them in. America was confused by this and walked over, the crate now being a casket. Inside was the dead body of a man and a stone just beside it stating: "R.I.P. Davie..."

America stopped there. He was more confused than he had ever been with the situation with Davie. He didn't understand. How come his friend Davie threw the flowers away. It's what he really wanted. America then picked up one of the flowers, shaking and sweating a bit nervously as he looked back up at "Davie".

"Da-vie?"

The young man gazed at the child, feeling sorry for the loss, but now feeling more sorry for his confusion. He started to state, in a dry, beaten voice, "Davie is dead. He lived a long and happy life with kids and grandkids like me. He was a wonderful great grandfather, and God has allowed him to rest..."

He too picked up one of the flowers and examined it, twisting it between his numb fingers. America stared at the flower, shaking, badly. "These are Forget-me-nots, aren't they... Ironically... he would have liked that a lot."

America's eyes filled with tears, his body shook violently, and his insides burned horribly. The grip on his flower tightened almost enough to kill it and his heart began to hurt. He placed his hand and clutched the flower to his heart, the pain almost enough to double him to his knees. His heart was hurting intensly, like stab wounds of the many wars England has described to him. His heart was breaking down the crease.

"No," he cried out. His eyes darted between the young boy, the stone, and his friend, dead and finally holding his favorite flowers that he never got to even see. "No!"

* * *

(Extra)

England sat square in the old shed near the home, sorting through his old things that reminded him of home. Looking through old souvenirs of his citizens, through pictures he's taken of the people he's met across his whole life time. The memories of knowing they were gone brought an ache to his heart and sweet sadness to sweep his face. He could only imagine how America was feeling due to it.

"England!" He bowed his head mournfully. He knew it would be coming, but it still hurt even when hearing his child's voice. America opened the doors forcefully, little light coming in from the darkness that already fell over the land. He was illuminated and shadowed by the moon's light, breathing heavily and his face creased with depressed marks. England could distinctly see the blue flower in America's grip.

"England," he said in a more desperate, cracking voice, "something's wrong! Something's been wrong ever since I met Davie! He's been looking different and taller and older each day I've seen him. He was my friend and then the next day, he was disgusted to see me. After that he couldn't even remember me!"

England looked at him fully, his body racking with emotions internally watching him quaking and struggling to understand.

"And, I saw him earlier today, but he told me he wasn't Davie and he told me Davie was dead, but how? I just saw Davie days ago for the first time, how could he have already lived a life time? !"

Tears were falling from his face and dotting the hard, concrete ground. He was wobbling too much for his body to stand still and England could bare it no more.

"America," he said in a neutral voice and outlook, when really all along he is crying deeply on the inside. He breathed unevenly seeing him gaze back at him, "this is hard for you to understand, but being a country sets different rules for how you grow in life compared to the citizens of your home. Humans grow every day physically and gain an age every year. What feels like a day or few to you could be weeks to months leading to centuries for them."

Now all of America's attention was on England and he was breathless. England was now beginning to shake and tear up himself, but he mustered his best not to show it, "this is why it's hard to befriend humans if you're a country. You start a bond with them and everything feels just right and perfect, but then the next day, they have been growing up and slowly forgetting you, even if you try your hardest for it to be right, they will still grow and pass you in your lifetime and you'll probably never see them again as they die."

America's face ached again and his body was ready to collapse. He was an immortal country that would indeed grow in some way like a normal human's, but that would take lifetimes' and centuries' of others to even grow an age and stature. There might be more people he might come to know and care deeply about to only have them suddenly disappear forever after a span of days. America remembered Davie's bright smiling face and eagerness to let the lonely child into his world. He now remembered the motionless, dead face of the young friend who proclaimed his name cheerfully days ago. His first friend gone forever... and there's more...

America broke out into a heartbroken cry, body tired and the flower growing weak in his grip. His knees buckled as he tried to walk. His friends would come and go. He would always be alone, no matter what he could try in reality. He's only made for war and sufferings. It's unfair! He cried again, running into England's arms and burying his face into his clothes, the flower sticking out like a crystal in the moonlight. "Why, England, why? !"

England's eyelashes stained with tears and he tried his best to stay strong and wrap his arms around America comfortingly. America coughed and cried miserably, the sound of sorrow one should never have to endure to hear from their child. "I just wanted a friend!"

England closed his eyes deeply, then remembered slowly and reached for his pocket. He brought out in his hand a spare blue flower and lifted it intricately in the moonlight. _A Forget-me-not... _He stifled a shaky breath and rested his head on America's shuddering body, pulling him close, "I'm sorry, America."

* * *

他のやつらと交渉したり殴りあったり上司に振り回されたりと  
結構忙しいので戦場や政治の場にいない人と仲良くなるのは難しそうだなー。

_Nations can get very busy with diplomatic talks, fights and being commanded around by their bosses, and so it can be very hard for them to get close to anybody outside of the battlefield or politics._

* * *

_This was a very emotionally stressed story to be brought up and talked about in just one day in the Hetalia fandom. The story Himaruya brought up about a normal boy named Davie and how just a few days to a country can feel like centuries to a human, and why the countries can sometimes have a hard time making friends._

_ I'm going to be honest right now, though. I definitely did not cry when I read it because I didn't think it was sad enough to do so. **However**, the story was very tragic to me as the whole concept is very true and it reflects again on sometimes the horrible life-styles of being a country. I decided to write a quick, one-shot, story version of the strip because of how important I felt it needed words (for one thing- but it's not like I didn't like it in the format that it was in.) and because of how this story was somehow able to get stuck in my brain and just stay there, even when I was thinking of other things, it was always there. I've been obsessed enough to write this story for a school assignment and draw out a lengthier version of the story for the history journals. I really appreciate this tiny strip Himaruya did and I wanted now more than anything for the moment to write this out (I was kind of surprised to not really see any fan fiction stories related to the incident). Also, I just had to add the ending part despite it being a good ending in the original. To me, it was what was needed to be needed for me (a little.) and it was already something I've seen. I thoroughly apologize, however, if it is no good._

_I hope this has been a good contribution to the sudden, sad story and I hope you can show some type of appreciation, it would mean a lot to me. :)_


End file.
